Being with and around Olive was the happiest Enoch ever was and it was completely genuine.
There was no doubt at all that his whole personality lightened monumentally when he was in a good mood, but only ever with her. To everyone else he much preferred to remain the Tin Man without a heart. Dare he say it felt nice to let go of anger and bitterness for once, temporarily and live for the moment right in front of him instead of everything either side.

Claire Densmore appearing out of nowhere without Olive mentioning her had been an unwelcome surprise, Enoch made no secret of that. But she was a little girl half his size and less than half his age so even he wasn't mean enough to be rude to her face. In fact, though he hadn't even seen the kid in a year, she was still the only one he'd remotely had anything to do with since he left primary school. She was a nice enough kid, that was all well and good, if rather annoying. There were worse fates in the world to be saddled with, shopping with a woman not least among them...and it was over soon enough. That wasn't to say he even liked being around kids because he didn't. There would be no getting any ideas in Olive's head that he would happily babysit with her. Or otherwise.

It was weird being in Olive's bedroom which even if she'd barely lived in the last two years, still looked every bit like it could have only belonged to her. Pastel wallpaper, and floral bedsheets on a very classic dainty white wrought iron bed frame. She'd even brought her candles back from Cambridge, or had been given new ones, he didn't pretend to ever have noticed anything specific about the candles in her room. What the hell was there to be specific about? A candle was a candle like a dress was a dress. One thing was for sure, he was probably the last thing that belonged in a girlish bedroom like Olive's and the skull emblazoned onto his skin did little to aid his cause.
Even weirder, was knowing they were alone in a house. Such occasions were so few and far between, whether in London or in Cambridge that there was little that would have made Enoch say no. It was frankly enough to know he could even just comfortably put his arm around his girlfriend without someone walking in or making a comment about it.

What had started as a very real aim to get Olive's phone off her, had turned into an unusually playful tousle in a matter of seconds. Then he'd hesitated for a fraction of a second longer staring at her eyes that by the time he moved, he hadn't even touched her lips before Olive had basically pushed him backwards with a suddenness that startled him.

"Enoch, what on earth is that?"

He had to throw out a hand behind him so he wouldn't topple sideways off the mattress altogether when she sat up. "What?"

"That. What did you do?" Olive repeated and her bright eyes were staring wide eyed at his torso which he might have poked fun at her about if he didn't know very well that it was specifically his tattoo she was questioning.

"What does it look like?" He muttered, a little exasperated.

"It looks like you were out of your mind."

"Oi-"

"Enoch, tell me that's not real."

"It's not real."

"...really?"

"O'course it's bloody real, do I look like I'd fake it?" He was slightly affronted at how appalled Olive seemed as he rolled to plant his feet on the floor and readjust his towel as he stood up. He rolled his eyes and walked back around to the foot of her bed and retrieve boxers from his bag.

"I just meant...when did you get that? Why didn't you tell me you were thinking about it?"
Olive crawled to the foot of her bed and stared up at him with a look of poorly disguised shock. Enoch watched her eyes flicker from his face to the tattoo and back again.

"Did I need ta?"

"No, but I kind of wish you would have let me know. When?"

"Last week." Enoch sighed and pulled on his pants under the towel before throwing the white cotton to the side and looking down at his left side at the skull below his ribs. "An' I kinda like it." He looked back at his girlfriend, "Ya don't 'ave ta like it yaself, it's done now and it ain't exactly comin' off."
He shouldn't care, and for the most part he didn't, that Olive didn't seem to like the skull at all but there was a twinge of disappointment he couldn't deny. He'd expected that reaction from his parents, and definitely hadn't heard the end of it, but Olive?

"Yes, I worked that out. I'm just...surprised is all." She was still staring at it as though rather than just being a tattoo, it was actually looking back at her through empty inked eye sockets.

He sighed and knelt down to rest his elbows on the railing of the foot of the bedframe and look her properly in the eye, her face close enough to his he could have comfortably kissed her.
"Surprised? Or 'orrified. 'Cause that's kinda what ya look like right now."

"Why? Why did you just decide you needed to do that?"

"Dunno..." He shrugged and was briefly distracted when her hand came up to rest on his bare arm. "Fought it might suit me...and my dad all but encouraged me. Ya know, if sayin' I'd never do it and he 'ates the fings counts as encouraging."

"Enoch O'Connor, tell me you didn't do that to spite your dad."

"Well not entirely, I ain't that stupid." He sighed and pushed up on the end of the bed to get to his feet as Olive rolled her legs off the side of the bed and shot a knowing look up at him. "I did say not entirely, an' by the way, ya don't 'ave ta like it. It's not exactly comin' off."

"I don't...hate it..."

"Oh well, fanks." Enoch rolled his eyes and self-consciously placed his hand over the mark for a few moments as Olive got up and walked around to him.

"Show me. Let me at least see it properly then." She said as she put her hand over his and pulled it away from his ribs. "I don't know whether to be cross or..."

"Or wha'?" Enoch mumbled and dropped his hand.
He looked down at Olive with a raised eyebrow as she frowned and a shiver ran down his spine unbidden as she ran her fingers over his tattoo as if she'd expected the texture of his skin to have suddenly changed or the ink to come away on her fingers.
The whole tattoo, the skull, was just larger than Olive's fist and just smaller than his and the dark, empty eye sockets stared out from the tender spot below his ribs on his left.

"I want to be cross that you didn't tell me you were doing this but..." Olive's cheeks suddenly flooded with colour and Enoch knew he was winning the battle just like that. She was tracing the shape now, right down to the cracks in the bone.

"Are you kiddin'?" His voice was as monotone as ever but a smirk started to play on his lips, he could practically read her mind right now. He knew she wanted to be more annoyed than she really was, and that level of irritation was going down by the second.

"Oh shut up..." Her face turned even more red and she dropped her hand immediately as if it had been burned. "I just think it does suit you after all."

"Loosely translated, I fink you like it a bit more than ya lettin' on." And now the opportunity to tease her was too good for him to pass up.

"That is not what I said."

"I know you."

"And I know you, and I think you drew that, didn't you?"

"You're changin' the subject."

"You're not answering the question."

"I didn't tattoo myself obviously, I ain't a masochist, it 'urt like 'ell." Enoch couldn't help smirking as the abrupt change in the topic as both of them avoided directly answering the other.

"I know that." Olive tutted and then she was staring again, this time with the air of an art critic about her.

"Look if ya wanted me ta take my shirt off all ya 'ad ta do was ask-ow!" Enoch was cut short when she pinched his arm as gently as a woman's nails could pinch.

"Shush, you definitely sketched this didn't you? And clearly they're good at their job because it's got your style all over it, Enoch."

This time it was Enoch's turn to stare at Olive. Was there anything she didn't notice about him anymore? He was taken aback that she could tell he had in fact drawn what he wanted himself, the first think he'd really sat down and put effort into drawing in months, even through a tattoo.

"Bloody 'ell you're good."

Olive looked suddenly very pleased with herself and actually hopped onto her toes to kiss his cheek and loop her arms around his waist.
"I'm still trying to be cross that you didn't tell me."

"Fine, I'll tell ya next time."

"There's not going to be a next time."

xxxXxxx

"So should we just assume you're off with Olive when you don't bother to tell us you're not going to be home all weekend?"

Enoch froze in the hallway and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling with a long sigh. So much for not needing to mention where he was going. He'd tried to slip back in unannounced but the moment his mum's voice sounded from the doorway to the living room behind him, he was definitely not making it. A month into the new term and he really shouldn't have gone to Cambridge in the first place, as it was most of what he did was study, but he had just had to get out the house.
He turned around with his bag over one shoulder and shrugged.
"Seems like a pretty safe bet."

"I called you, Enoch, you might have at least mentioned where you were going."

"I know, I ignored it."

"Clearly!"

There were only so many straws left and Enoch had the feeling he was getting very close to the last one. But honestly, it wasn't like he was a teenager sneaking out on a school night, when exactly was he going to have the freedom to do what he wanted?

"Mum, I ain't sixteen anymore, where the 'ell else would I be? I'm an adult, I 'ave my own life!"

"I don't think it matters whether you're sixteen or sixty, we are your parents and you're living under our roof so I think we're entitled to some explanations when we ask for them every now and again." She snapped right back with such a fire that Enoch was momentarily caught off guard. Enoch got angry. His dad got angry, furious with him, and his mum, well sure she was as angry as a mother could get but she was the one much more likely to cut him some slack.
So if she was fed up, that had to be saying something.
Was it enough to change his attitude? Not at all, at least not right now it wasn't. He just stared at his mother and clenched his jaw stubbornly. Evidently, she wasn't finished.

"I'm really getting tired of this prodigal son act, Enoch! You don't tell us anything-"

"I don't tell anyone anyfin'! Why should-"

"No, Enoch, you're done interrupting, for once you can listen instead of justifying everything with this rubbish!"

Enoch obediently shut his mouth. Not out of any desire to listen but just sheer shock. Forget being close to the last straw, it was way beyond that now.

"Hardly going into your job when your father expects you to, flat out refusing to even introduce us to your girlfriend's family, which makes me think you're either ashamed, or really, really made a bad impression, getting that thing when you know how we feel about those-"

"Are you still pissed about the tattoo? Bloody 'ell it's been over a month, get over it already!"

"You do not get to tell me to get over things when my own son doesn't even act like he is my son anymore!"
There were tears in her eyes now and her words were shaky, even Enoch could tell how much he'd actually upset her this time. Maybe he should have felt worse, no, he definitely should have, but right now he was too angry to feel even a little bit guilty. Years of pain that had been suppressed on both sides were finally, after over a decade bubbling up to boiling point on both sides.
A death could unite, or equally as powerfully, it could destroy and this house had been crumbling brick by brick for years.

"Well while ya at it then, why not add to my crimes? Call dad, 'e'll give ya about fifty more of 'em." Enoch bit right back and an old twist in his chest started to come back. The old ache he'd pretended wasn't there for so long that he'd stopped caring about disappointing his father to the point he'd adopted a "go down swinging" type of attitude.

"That is not fair."

"Why not? It's true, ain't it? I 'aven't been damn good enough since I can remember. Is it any freakin' wonder I 'ate bein' 'ere?" There was a painful lump in his throat now but like an old professional, Enoch suppressed it. "Stop pretendin' all we need is a coat of paint for this 'ell ta look alright 'cause it ain't never gonna be!"

Stop it right now. Every rational part of his mind was screaming at him. It's only hurting more than anything. She's your mother, why would you say it?
But for once, for one explosive incident, Enoch would only listen to the part of him he'd never really quelled that never stopped hurting.
He had gone far too far, he knew it the moment the words left his mouth. They never talked about her. They never talked about the baby girl that didn't get to grow up, never remotely mentioned the fracture that had never been treated.

He was sure the door rattled on its hinges when he slammed it behind him and the car door definitely made an unnaturally loud bang. Enoch slammed his hands on the steering wheel and let out a long, loud stream of curses. He wasn't close to tears. He hadn't cried since he was about seven years old, but he was so full to the brim of rage and pain and guilt that there was no way he was going back in that house until he had cooled off about a thousand degrees.
He was a pathetic excuse for a human being. What kind of man, what kind of son said those things?
But he had, and it was done. It was out.

xxxXxxx

...I'm sorry?